


I Think That I Was Meant To Be Next To You

by PatrickVghnStump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:54:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatrickVghnStump/pseuds/PatrickVghnStump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I never thought he'd propose; I never thought we'd have a child together. I'd always hoped we would, ya know, but.... It's happening. I'm finally happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which He Asks Me To Marry Him

**Author's Note:**

> ok im so lame heres another self insertion

I sat up in the bed, the sheet I was laying under sliding from my chest to my lap. The sun was trickling in though the two curtain panels, landing, of course, directly onto my face. I looked over at the clock; 8:47. At least I got a decent amount of sleep. I rolled over, pressing a delicate kiss on my beautiful boyfriend's forehead. He stirred slightly, opening his eyes for a quick moment. 

Those eyes... I get lost in them so often. I can never decide what colour they are. Are they green? Blue? Hazel? I could stare into his gorgeous eyes forever if I was able to. He pulls the blanket over his face, snapping me from the trance. The handsome man in my bed rolled onto his side, so his face is pressed into my leg. I assumed he was still sleeping, but I feel him press light, but wet kisses onto my outer thigh. I slap his head gently. "Patrick Martin Stumph!" I exclaim, chills running up the length of my body. He smiles into my skin and kisses my thigh again, this time blowing his cool breath onto my leg, sending more chills up my spine. I smile and slide down into the bed again, resting my face in front of his, the sheet still over our heads.

"Good morning, gorgeous," Patrick says, his adorable, sleepy morning voice making my heart swell. I smile and press a kiss to his lips. "Good morning, baby," I reply, smiling slightly as he kisses me back. "Should we get up?" he asks, yawning wide. I search for his hand with my own, grabbing hold when I find it. His thicker fingers intertwine with my own, and I squeeze his hand lightly. "Only if you make me breakfast," I whisper, touching my nose to his. He smiles and opens his glorious green-blue eyes, staring into my boring brown ones. I see something in those gorgeous eyes; he's hiding something. I see the corners of his mouth twitching like they do when he has something to ask me. I can't even begin to imagine what'd it be; could be anything from "Should we buy new furniture?" to "When should we make that steak dinner we've been planning?". 

I flip the sheet from over our heads, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side of the bed. Patrick touches the my lower back, with slow, light motions. I freeze for a moment, then allow him to dance his fingers up and down my spine as he rose from his spot on his side of the bed. His hand made its way up to my shoulder, and I felt his legs wrap around my back. He hugged me from behind, his chubby tummy pressed against my back. I loved his body. So, so, so much. I smiled and brought his hands to my stomach, leaning back onto him for a moment. "Look at me," he said, his voice sounding much more like it does normally; less sleepy and slow. I turned my head and he pressed a kiss onto my cheek. "I love you, Kyra," he whispered in my ear, leaning his head onto my shoulder. 

I put my hands on top of his once more, before turning around so my chest was pressed to his, and my legs were over his thighs. "I love you too, babe," I said, kissing him deeply for a few moments. God, I love his kisses. I slid off his lap, grabbing one of his teeshirts from the floor, and pulled it over my head. "Come make me pancakes, babe? Pleeeeeease?" I begged, sticking my bottom lip out in a pout. Patrick chuckled, standing and adjusting his shorts. He followed me into the kitchen, where I had already set out a carton of eggs, the pancake mix, and the jug of milk on the counter. Patrick grabbed a bowl from the cabinet to the right of the refrigerator, and a spoon from the drawer. I saw him fiddle with something small in the pocket of his shorts.

I narrow my eyes and walk over to him, placing my hand over his hand; the one that was in his pocket. Patrick blushed, his cheeks turning a rosy red colour; something you'd only expect to see around Christmas time, when it was insanely cold. I smiled and pecked his cheek before removing my hand and moving over to the stove, setting a flat skillet on the burner. I turned the stove top on, turning around to see Patrick had begun to mix the pancakes. His hand flew to his pocket once more, but he drew it away after a moment. What the hell was he doing? I ignored it, pouring myself a glass of milk to take my morning medication. I took a sip of the cold milk, then popped the pill into my mouth, squeezing it between my lips. Patrick laughed at me, as he did once in a while when he saw me taking my meds. "What?" I laughed, holding the glass up to my mouth with both hands. "You're the only person I know that takes pills like that. It's adorable," he answered, still watching me intently. His hand dove into his pocket, but he withdrew it after a moment's hesitation. He looked up at me sheepishly. 

"What on earth is in that pocket?" I asked, reaching around him to grab the pancake mix. I grabbed a spatula from the draw before pouring a few circles of batter onto the skillet. "Nothing," he said quickly, blushing a little. "You're a bad liar, you know, babe," I smiled, handing the spatula to him. Patrick took it and stood with his back to me, facing the stove. "Am not," he said quietly, adjusting the heat on the stove. I laughed and turned to set the table; two ceramic plates, made by me, and two wine glasses. Of course we wouldn't be having wine for breakfast, but those were the cups my adorable boyfriend had chosen, so I went with it.

I turned back around to look at Patrick, to see how many pancakes had been made, but I didn't see him at first. I panicked for a moment before seeing him at my feet. In his hand, he held a small satin covered box. My hand flew up to cover my mouth, and of course, I felt tears forming in my eyes. God damn him. God damn this glorious man. 

"Kyra, we've known each other for as long as I can remember. I can't think of anything that has gotten between us. I've been thinking about how wonderful it would be to spend the rest of my life with you," Patrick began, looking up into my watery eyes. Damn him. "I can't think of anyone else I'd rather spend my life with; well, besides a smaller person that would call us "mom" and "dad". He smiled and wiped a tear from his own eye. I took a shaky breath, waiting for him to continue. "Every time I look at you, my heart skips a beat. You may not think so, but to me, you're the single most beautiful woman I've ever met; I couldn't dream of a better woman. No one could," he confessed, still holding the little box out. He flipped the lid open, revealing the most beautiful ring I'd ever seen. "Kyra, will you marry me?" he asked. 

What had been just a few tears turned into a river almost; I was crying. Patrick looked concerned until I started to laugh, then bent down to kiss him. "Yes, I'll marry you, you idiot!" I whispered, kissing him on his forehead, cheeks, and lips. He grabbed my left hand and slid the ring onto my finger, kissing my hand after he'd put it on. I grabbed his face with both of my hands and kissed him slowly, wanting to savour the moment. "I love you so fucking much," I sniffed, whipping my eyes with my hand. "I love you too, my beautiful fiancee," Patrick said, kissing my cheek.


	2. In Which We Tell Our Parents

Patrick and I were engaged. Like, we were going to get married. "So..." Patrick began, as we poured milk into our wine glasses. "When do we tell our parents?" My face fell, no longer having a giant smile plastered across it from ear to ear. "Shit. Parents. I need to practice telling them. Mum and Bill are going to freak out, 'Trick..." I worried. Patrick laughed. "My parents already knew I was planning this, but I didn't tell them when I'd propose," he said, taking a bite of pancake. I rolled my eyes at him. "Did you even bother calling my mum and stepfather?" I asked. He looked up guiltily. "No... I didn't even think of it," he admitted. I sighed and grabbed his hand. "We'll call them later. I'm going to call Neha and Ashton first, and then Mica and Dan, and when we can break the news to my parents," I decided, grabbing my phone from the table. I dialed Neha's number quickly, then waited for a ring.

Neha answered, a bit sleepily. "Shit, have you not had coffee yet?" I asked as she yawned on the other end of the line. I heard a quiet 'no', then a grumbling voice; most likely Ashton's. I laughed and smiled, though I know Neha couldn't see the joy on my face, she'd be able to hear it in my voice. "Well, after you hear this, you won't be as tired, lazy ass," I said, admiring the ring on my finger. Neha grunted, and I heard the faint 'pop' of a Starbuck's frappuccino opening. "What'd Patrick do this time?" Neha asked, laughing a little. "You won't want to kill him this time, trust me," I said. I saw Patrick look up, faint surprise on his face. "Do you tell her everything?" Patrick squeaked. I blushed and nodded. "She's my person, 'Trick," I said. He rolled his eyes. Neha laughed. "More Greys references, I see. Not much has changed since we last spoke?" she asked. I looked at the ring again. "He proposed," I said quickly.

I held the phone away from my ear as Neha basically screeched in my ear. "Fucking finally? God DAMN that man is so slow. Ash proposed nearly 6 months ago, and how long have Mica and Dan been hitched? He's so damn slow, Kyra what the hell. But oh my god, he proposed? How? Where? What did he say?" she asked, firing questions at me. "Neha, jeez, I called you even before I called my mum, and if this is how everyone is going to react, I'm going to scream," I said, laughing. Patrick took a sip of his milk, looking at the ceiling. "Yeah, don't go looking like you aren't guilty, Mr. Stumph," I said. "He didn't call my parents to tell them! So now I have to go through that, which will be excellent, because my dumbass - but adorable - fiance, didn't call my mum and stepdad," I explained. Neha laughed. "Still. Details," she insisted.

I got up and walked over to Patrick, sitting down on his lap. I ran my fingers through his hair as I told Neha what he'd said. I kept hearing little squeaks as I recounted the details of the proposal. "As soon as I saw him down on one knee, I was in tears," I repeated, still trying to convince myself that I was engaged to the most amazing man on the planet. "You're still shocked out of your mind, aren't you?" Neha asked. I nodded, but then remembered she couldn't see me. "Of course I am," I said, rubbing my nose on Patrick's. "I couldn't be any more shocked if I tried, Neha. Come on, you did the same thing when Ash proposed," I reminded her. She laughed. "I'm just giving you shit, you dumbass," my friend said. I grunted and switched the phone to speaker, placing it on the table. "Neha tell Patrick how long you've been asking when he's going to propose," I said, waiting for her to admit to her ungodly nagging. "Well... Basically since you met her, Patrick. I started asking her like every time we called or saw each other about a year ago, though," she confessed, laughing nervously.

"Seriously?" Patrick asked. He smoothed my short bangs out, running his fingers through my pixie-cut. "I'd been thinking of it since the moment I dropped you off at home after our first date," Patrick said. Neha squeaked again. "Alright you, are you becoming a guinea pig or some shit?" I asked. "No!" Neha protested, voice raising a pitch. "Have you told Mica yet? They're going to cry, I can see it," Neha said. I laughed, and Patrick smiled. "I'm sure they won't, but they'll be happy all the same. They're already married, so this mushy shit may not get to them as much," I reminded her. "I should really call my parents though," I decided. "Before I call Mica." Neha sighed. "I suppose you're right. Should I let you go so you can do that?"

I laughed. "I wish phones were like Skype," I said, looking at my phone with frustration, "Because then I could have told both you and Mica at the same time. I should let you go, yes, so I can tell my parents. I may just text Mica for now, since they're three hours different," I added. "Yeah, good idea. I'll call you later; I should be getting ready anyway. Ash and I are going out for breakfast," Neha said. We said our goodbyes and hung up the phone. 

Bracing myself to call my parents would take a little while. "It's gonna be... a bit.... before I call my parents," I said, picking up the dirty dishes and placing them in the sink. Patrick had left the kitchen; I could hear his guitar in the music room, which I had specially padded with soundproofing materials, so really I could only hear a hum. I finished cleaning up our breakfast and heading up to the music room. I climbed the stairs quickly, entering the room as quietly as I could. Patrick was strumming away on his acoustic. 

When he paused to write a few chords down, I walked over to him. "Something new? Is this personal or Fall Out Boy?" I asked. He shrugged. "Could probably be tweaked to go either way," he said, pick in between his teeth. I nodded. "Either way, I'll be great," I said, needlessly reassuring my fiance. God, it felt good to say that. Fiance. Which reminded me - the parents. "I'll be in the den, probably still on the phone with Mom," I said. I put my hand on his shoulder and kissed him before leaving the room to head to the den. 

Once I was downstairs and settled onto the recliner, I fished my phone out of my pocket, and dialed my mom's number. She picked up rather quickly, which was surprising. "Hello, daughter," my mother answered, in that way you could only understand if you heard it for yourself. "Why're calling me at 10:30 in the morning? You normally don't call until around eight o'clock," my mum stated. I laughed a bit nervously. Better say it now and get it over with. "Patrick asked me to marry him," I said. The line was silent. "Mom?" I asked. "...Finally?" she asked. I blinked, a bit surprised. "I know he was going to, at some point. I saw it in the way he looked at you, the way he talked to you, when you two visited us. Why the hell didn't he call though?" she asked. I laughed and got more comfortable on the chair, then told my mom the events of the morning.


End file.
